Everton and technical partner hummel are proud to collaborate to present My Everton, a weekly series of first-hand accounts describing the most-treasured memories of fans, players, and staff both past and present.
Got an entry? We'd love to hear it – and there are exclusive prizes for the best fan submissions, including VIP tickets to First Team matches, invitations to watch training at Finch Farm, signed merchandise and discount on hummel.net. Submit via email to firstname.lastname@example.org.
My Everton started in 1967. I was six years old.
My dad and his mate, Phil, told me they were playing for their work’s team in Liverpool and, being football mad, I was going to watch.
We lived in Warrington, so for a six-year-old, 25 miles felt like the longest journey in the world! When we parked up, I noticed they didn't have any kit.
“It's all ready for us at the ground,” they said.
“Who are you playing?” I asked.
“Some rubbish team!” they replied!
It was a long walk to the ground, but a bag of chips definitely helped.
“It's just down here,” dad said, as we turned into Gwladys Street.
“You're playing in there?” I asked, still oblivious to what was in front of me. “Are all these people watching you?”
Still not a clue.
Now knowing we're walking down Goodison Road, I heard a loud cheer. Kick-off. With that, I was picked up and rushed into the ground.
Three things then stood out to me and will stay with me forever:
- How green the grass was - I’d only ever watched the games on tele - a black and white one at that.
- The players were massive!
- My dad definitely wasn't playing.
We stood up against the wall in church corner and watched the game. Looking back, it was an amazing line-up from both sides. We were playing a team called Man United, with Alex Stepney, Bobby Charlton, and someone called George Best!
And there right in front of me, my hero: Alan Ball. That alone made my day. They were all there: Howard Kendall, Colin Harvey, Brian Labone.
Alan Ball only went and scored! I said: “Told you he was the best player, Dad.”
We won 3-1 in front of a 61,000 crowd, including me, my dad and Phil.
This is where my love of Everton started, and it has never ended.
We went on to be regulars and when I was older, I became a Gwladys Street season ticket holder, too.
I later found out that my uncle played a few games for us back in the '30s, alongside the legend that is Dixie Dean.
So here I am, nearly 62, still a bluenose, and proud of it. I've had some amazing times watching Everton, and the good times will return, I'm sure.
By Stephen Fairbrother, Evertonian